


Care for Apocalypse Survivors

by AuroraCloud



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Episode: s03e13 Last of the Time Lords, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Torchwood Three, Post-Year That Never Was, Pre-Season/Series 02, background Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones - Freeform, brief appearance by Tenth Doctor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 10:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11850081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraCloud/pseuds/AuroraCloud
Summary: After the Year That Never Was, the TARDIS whisks the Doctor, Martha, and Jack to a safe place to rest and recover. With a year of horrors behind them, Martha and Jack have each other for comfort.





	Care for Apocalypse Survivors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [engmaresh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/engmaresh/gifts).



> Takes place after The Year that Never Was but before the end of the episode "The Last of the Time Lords" and Jack's return to Cardiff.
> 
> Mentions of past violence, torture, and repeated temporary deaths for Jack Harkness, but not descriptive, and what you'd expect of the Year That Never Was.
> 
> Many thanks to Enkanowen for her awesome beta work! The story turned out much better than it otherwise would have been thanks to her help.

Martha watched the Doctor disappear under the console with a box of tools. ”She needs rest,” the Time Lord said with a clipped, strained voice. ”And a lot of fixing up. She took us into a safe place. Go and look at the scenery, it’s pretty.” 

Martha turned to look at Jack, who stood tense at a doorway. As soon as the TARDIS had started up on her own, he had looked frightened. But he seemed assured by the Doctor’s words; perhaps he had feared that the timeship’s reaction had been because of him. 

When neither of them moved, the Doctor said: ”Really, both of you, just go and have a break. We have time.”

If she really strained, she could hear the _And you deserve it_ that the Doctor wasn’t going to say out loud.

”All right,” she said, too weary to sound brisk. A break. A rest.

She stepped out of the TARDIS and looked around. There were some kind of forests, more blue than green in colour and with only sparse undergrowth, spreading all around them. She saw a stream running beneath the nearest hill, sparkling and reflecting the purplish blue of the sky. There was nobody around but them. It did look peaceful, and the air smelled fresh.

Perhaps, after a year of breathing in poisonous fumes from a sickened Earth and the stench of bodies and metal and dust, hearing the whirring and insane chuckle of killing machines, she would be able to be calm again. Still, she found herself warily glancing at the edge of the forest.

She heard the TARDIS door open, and Jack stepped out beside her. ”It really is quite safe,” he said quietly. ”I’ve been here before. Will be decades before this place develops any lifeforms bigger than butterflies. Well, dragonflies, maybe.”

”Is that why the TARDIS picked up this place? Because you know it?”

Jack shrugged. Something flitted through his face, a shade of a memory, perhaps. ”She knows it. It’s safe. I think she wants to be safe now, too.” Jack took a step towards her, then stopped.

Martha made herself relax, welcome Jack with a smile.

He put his hands on her shoulders, squeezed comfortingly. ”You’re tense, honey. How about we sit by the pond over there and I give you a massage?” He cocked his head to the side, smiled with a bit of a glint, but it was fleeting. There were new shadows in his eyes, and she wondered how long it would take to banish them. ”I promise I don’t mean anything else.”

”Oh.” Martha realised, to her surprise, that she was slightly disappointed. She banished the feeling, just glad that her other companion was willing to offer her both words and companionship, and let him guide her to the pond by the hill.

There were little creatures swimming there, not quite fish, not quite shrimps, shimmering with silver and rainbow. The air was mildly fragrant with local flowers, their blooms white and heavy. Jack’s hands lay on her shoulders, warm and strong and heavy, and he began to massage her tight muscles, starting gently. She shivered under the sensation. Suddenly she understood how much she craved to be touched after a year of loneliness. She almost moaned out loud. Then his hands began to knead deeper, and she did mean, but it was out of pain. She had not realised how tense her shoulders were.

”Sorry, sweetie,” Jack said, his voice close by her ear. His hands softened.

”It’s okay,” she mumbled. ”It helps. No need to keep it soft.”

He continued. She felt a shiver run through her with the delight of being touched by kind, strong hands.

She listened to Jack as he told her about this planet, and this particular place and the sights and smells around them. Gradually his voice fell away and he continued in silence. Eventually his hands stilled, too. She was almost leaning against him, and let her head rest against his shoulder. She felt the rising of his chest with his breath, as he pressed against her back, and his chin came to rest on the top of her head. 

She touched his hand with hers, and felt a hitch in his breath. He tensed, then relaxed again. She began to stroke his hand.

He wrapped his other arm around her and pulled her in tightly. She relaxed into his hold. Really, she didn’t know him much, but he was still one of the few people in the world with whom she felt safe. He knew what she had been through.

She burrowed her head a little deeper into his shoulder. He smelled nice. Quite nice, really. She shouldn’t think that, probably. Then again, why shouldn’t she? She wrapped an arm around his waist and inhaled a bit more deeply. She felt heat pooling inside her, tightening up with unexpected desire, her skin tingling.

Suddenly she realised Jack was trembling against her.

She lifted her hands to his face, her eyes to his. ”Jack? Are you okay?”

He looked away, but she caught his expression of barely suppressed pain and emotion. ”Yeah,” he said unconvincingly.

”How stupid of me,” she muttered and wrapped her arms around him. The little flickering flame of lust was still there in her, but she was overwhelmed with compassion. ”Of course you aren’t.” 

She moved her hands to his shoulder blades, beginning to move her hands in small circles. He shivered and sighed, leaning into her touch. She wondered if he had offered to comfort her with his touch partly because he yearned that comfort himself. She felt him relax gradually. Softly, she felt warmth spreading through her, finding comfort in comfort, finding herself cared for by bringing gentleness to another who had suffered.

”What did you suffer all that year?” She asked, suddenly conscious of how little had been spoken of that since the _Valiant_. ”God, Jack, I never even asked.”

”Don’t," Jack replied, voice tight. ”It’s gone. It never happened.”

She intensified the movements of her hands on his muscles. ”Jack. It did. For us, it _did_. My journey around the Earth, your year chained up on that ship, the horrors that my family saw — it all happened.” She felt his back tense again. She moved to face him, brought her hands to his face again, forced him to look at her, and said: ”Look, Jack, I’ve spent years studying to be a doctor and I know some things. You'll never heal something by pretending that there’s nothing to heal.”

He gathered her into his arms and pressed his face into her hair. She heard a stifled sob. ”I don’t want to talk about it. Don’t want to think about it.”

She continued soothing movements with her hands on his back. 

Jack took a deep breath, and words spilled out, rushed and pained. ”He killed me a lot, tortured me, he starved me and kept me chained and killed my team in front of me, okay? They’re all right now, so it never happened, but it did. Just because they were mine. So many things I don’t know if they were real or if I just went crazy. And I don’t want to live in that year anymore. I don’t want to think about it.” He pressed her tightly against himself, and said nothing more.

”I’m sorry, Jack,” she whispered. 

They sat there, wrapped in each other’s arms, silently sobbing. It felt like their tears welled from the same source, vast and salty and deep.

”It's alright,” she told him. ”It's alright, it’s alright.” She was telling it to herself as much as to him. ”I mean that it’s not okay, and it’s all right that you know it. Feel it.”

His sobs intensified, and he was holding her tightly, like a drowning man. Maybe they were both drowning. Maybe the sorrows they had held back for a year were finally crashing over them like a wave on the shore, and they only had each other to hold onto.

It seemed ages before they pulled apart, though only a little. They remained close, their foreheads touching. She touched his face, felt the wetness there. On impulse, she kissed him on the cheekbone, tasting the salt and feeling the warmth of his skin. She heard the quick intake of breath mere inches from her ear. It flowed naturally from here to turn her head and search for his mouth until she found it, sealing their lips together in a gentle kiss. 

She felt him stiffen first, but then he sighed and melted into the kiss, his lips softening against hers. His hand wrapped around the back of her head, and the other arm came to her waist to pull her flush against him. His warmth encapsulated them both, She felt comfort spreading through her.

When she let him go, unsure of what to do or say, he whispered her name. He pressed kisses on her cheeks, the bridge of her nose, her eyes, the corners of her mouth. But then he stopped, and she withdrew, looking at him uncertainly.

He looked lost, bewildered, and it made her heart ache.

”Did I...?" She didn’t know how to continue. ”Was I too forward?”

That made Jack chuckle. ”Martha Jones, have we met?”

She laughed, a little uneasily. She didn’t want to be just another warm body, though to be fair, she didn’t know for sure what she wanted from him. Only that they felt inexplicably tied together, that they were both in pain, and that she wanted him.

But he sobered, smiled more gently and said: ”Trust me, I know how to say if I don’t want to be kissed. I just… it came a bit out of the blue, it’s all.” He looked down. ”I don’t deserve it.”

”Jack —” and she pulled him to her, and kissed him, intent on showing him just how much he deserved it. This time he responded to the kiss eagerly, and when they separated again, she felt a little breathless and quite a bit hotter inside. She had a many things she wanted to say to him, but what came out was: ”Did you know you smell divine?”

Jack laughed. ”Ah, you only want me for my 51st century pheromones.”

She poked him sharply in the chest, and grabbed his shoulders. ”No. Jack Harkness, I want you for you.” And then she kissed him quite passionately. 

There was no protest from him, and they spent several moments in a pleasing tangle of lips and tongues, hands and mouths caressing each other and spreading the warmth. She became aware that he was sobbing again, but then, so was she. 

When they came up for air, she caressed his face, feeling the moisture. ”You okay?”

”Yeah." He held her hand and pressed her palm against his cheek. ”Just been so long… since anyone touched me kindly.”

She swallowed. ”Me too,” she whispered. Though it must be worse for him. She had met kindness from people on her way around the earth, even if she could not grow close to anyone in her relentless journey. From the little she knew, he had had little else than torture throughout the year.

He held her hand tighter. ”Sorry,” he muttered. ”I guess I just got… broken.”

She pressed her hand on his heart. ”Jack. If you had gone through what you did, and you didn’t feel it, _then_ you would be broken. There’s no need to be sorry that you feel.”

Jack responded by pulling her tight against his chest and holding her. Somehow she ended up on his lap, cradling his head against her shoulder. She stroked his hair while he moved his hands up and down her back. She felt his breath heavy on her neck. ”We’re safe,” she muttered. ”We’re safe now. But it doesn’t mean that we can forget all we saw. All we felt.”

He swallowed hard and nodded, letting her bring his face closer to hers again. They traded leisurely kisses and caresses. Jack was an excellent kisser. The physical contact seemed to restore some of his spirits. The kisses became more passionate, their breaths more flushed, but there was no rush. Martha tried gently licking Jack’s neck, eliciting sighs of pleasure from him, making him smile blissfully. His hands stroked her back and sides, and she felt them draining away the exhaustion and the grief that had seemed imprinted in her body.

He laid down on his back, pulling her down with him. She squealed a little in surprise. Her thigh pressed between his legs and she could feel his hard-on, and felt blood rushing hot into her nether regions. She hadn’t planned this far. In fact, she hadn’t planned at all.

He looked at her, his eyes soft and sad and uncertain. ”Can you just… be here? You don't have to... anything else, if you don't want.” ”

She pressed her head on his shoulder now, content to feel his broad chest rising and falling under her. ”Yes,” she whispered. ”I’m here.” And feeling the tentativeness of his touch, she added. ”I want to be here.”

”Okay,” he murmured. Then she could hear a little of the old flirtatious edge from so long ago as he added: ”And if you want anything more, baby, you've just got to ask. ”

She laughed softly. ”Okay.” She shifted her weight a little, and heard a little gasp from him as her thigh brushed against his erection. It was nice, feeling his heat and body and scent, knowing he wanted her, knowing there space for her to be as she wanted to be.

She wanted to feel more, touch more. Skin on skin was the best way to banish demons. She undid the top buttons of his shirt, feeling the shift in his breath. She caressed his well-sculpted muscles - how did any man even have a right to be so beautiful? — and pressed kisses on the skin. He moaned and whispered her name, louder when she tentatively kissed and dragged her tongue across his nipple. His hands lifted the hem of her shirt and slid tentatively on the bare skin of her waist. She arched her back into the touch.

He continued lifting her shirt, looking into her eyes as he did it, so gently she almost wanted to cry. She managed to nod, and smiling at her, he pulled the shirt over her head, leaving her clad only in her bra and jeans. She felt exposed, but not in a bad way. Finally, being seen was _good_. He pulled her to him again and began to rub his hands over her back, gently softening and kneading her muscles. She felt her pains unknot by his fingers, and gave a sob.

”You okay, honey?” Jack murmured at her ear.

”Yes. Go on. Please.” Her breath felt constricted. If he only kept touching her, the pain and the sorrow might bleed away, leave her weightless and free. 

She was shaky, but slowly, with mutual wiggling, she managed to free him of his shirt, and spread across that gorgeous, bare chest, burrowing into the warm skin with her face, her hands, the skin of her upper body. Her breasts tingled with warmth, and her nipples felt taut and sensitive. She licked his skin, savouring the salty tang of sweat and something that was indefinably Jack. She felt his hands slide over her bum, gently squeezing her through her jeans, and she bucked her hips in approval.

”Nice,” muttered Jack. She moved and mouthed a nipple, licking and sucking on it until his sounds became incoherent. Her hands roamed around his chest and stomach, and she occasionally rocked her hips to cause more reactions in his groin. 

But when he reached for her bra clasp, she felt brakes slamming on. She wanted him madly, but the overflow of kindness sensual pleasure was just more than she could take after a year of bleakness and fear. She scrambled up, and he immediately stopped and looked at her, worried.

”Martha, sorry, did I…?” He didn’t seem to know how to finish.

”No, I…” She rubbed her temples, trying to find words. ”I just, could we backtrack a little?” She needed a break, at least to think about if she really wanted this for him or just because she knew the Doctor would never want her. Jack deserved more than that. They both did.

His hands fell to his sides, and he looked ashamed. ”Of course, I'm sorry, I didn’t mean…”

She put her hand on his mouth to shut him up. ”Don't be stupid, I was just as eager as you. And I don’t mean I don’t want to. Oh God, I do. Just… a little more time, okay?”

She removed her hand, and he smiled a bit, as close to a sheepish smile as Jack Harkness was likely to manage. ”Yeah. It’s fine.” But there was something tense in his eyes. Not like the crass guys who got upset when a girl wouldn’t put out. Martha felt safe, half-naked and on top of each other as they were. It was more like… She remembered suddenly how he would watch the Doctor. Wary, expecting rejection.

She ran her hand across his cheek. ”Jack Harkness, you’re hot as hell and I want you, and I miss being touched, and this is so, so good. But we moved kind of fast here, that’s all. I haven't been close to anyone in a long time.” She bit her lip. 

”You’re right. It shouldn’t go like this. Not with you.” He placed his hand on hers, caressing it. ”But in that case, could you maybe get off me so that I can think clearly?”

She laughed and rolled off him. He grinned and got up, pulling his shirt on as she looked for hers.

”For the record, Martha Jones, you’re hot as hell, too.”

”Well, yeah, I’m a post-apocalyptic heroine.” She tried to grin. 

His eyes grew somber. ”That you are.” He picked up her hand again, pulled it to his mouth, and kissed it gently. The brush of his lips was almost as searing as the intense snogging and groping had been. She sank into his comforting warmth, felt his arms wrap around her tightly, and wished that somehow, they could just float in this one single moment, no past, no future. 

They stayed that way for a while, and she looked at the sky, stretching out a purplish blue ahead of them. She listened to the quiet sounds of an alien nature, and was happy that for once, there was nothing to run away from. Nothing except the past. 

But Jack was growing tense and restless. She turned to face him, trying to see what thoughts or memories were tormenting him, but he turned his face away. ”Martha, would you mind…” he sounded apologetic. ”I think I need a little time alone.”

”It’s okay,” she said, trying not to sound disappointed.

”Please come back,” he said, turning anxious eyes at her, which soothed any worries that he might have rejected her because she didn’t want to sleep with him. Clearly, there were things on his mind he wanted to work out, and Martha could understand that. ”An hour, at most. I’ll be over there.” He gestured at a hillside some distance away. ”If you want to be outdoors, the brook over there is really nice. Just don’t eat anything crimson.”

She nodded. She could understand. He had had his private ordeals, and he needed his time to grieve. ”If I need to eat, I’ll just pop into the TARDIS. The Doctor can deal if I want to make a sandwich.”

Perhaps she could also use a quiet moment to think only of herself and what she wanted from now on. 

 

She returned an hour later with tea and sandwiches. Jack was sitting on the edge of a cliff, looking out into the valley below.

”Reminds me of home,” he said. ”Did you know that Cardiff is home now? I didn’t.”

"How does it remind you of home?” She handed him a mug of tea. He took it and glanced at her.

”Did you go into the TARDIS, or have the local lifeforms evolved and started up a cafeteria since the last time I was here?”

”No, just me and the good old TARDIS kitchen. At least she’s reconstructed that already.” She could have explained how, at the end of her brookside walk on this beautiful but strange world, she longed for familiar surroundings, even if the Doctor was uncharacteristically silent and didn’t need her presence. But Jack probably understood. So much he understood, even without being told. He smiled a bit sadly, and took a sip of the tea.

”Back in Cardiff, through the decades,” he said after a while, ”I’d stand on all these high-rise buildings, looking over the city and up to the sky. Anywhere with lots of space and open sky. I wanted to get away. And now I just want to get back. My team’s there. My people. I didn’t know how much they were my people until now.” 

She felt her throat constrict with an unexpected surge of emotion. Maybe it was the unusual softness and sadness of Jack’s voice.

”I’m sure the Doctor will have the TARDIS back in order soon, and you can go anywhere you like.”

He took a few sips of the tea and stared at his sandwich as though he didn’t know what to do with it. Finally he said: ”I wonder if they’ll have me back. I left them. Without a word or a goodbye.”

Martha thought of her family. ”I’m sure they will,” she said. ”Hey, eat that sandwich. I made it myself.”

”Oh. Right.” He bit into it, and suddenly seemed ravenous. He finished it almost as quickly as Martha’s old dog had finished his meals. It was oddly comforting to know that this impossibly gorgeous man did not exactly have neat eating habits. ”How’s himself?” he asked once finished.

”Still under the console. Still only speaking in grunts.”

They fell into moody silence, slowly chewing on the sandwiches. She felt a painful stab of longing. For home, but what would home be now, after all that had happened?

”My family,” Martha whispered. ”They’ve seen it all. And they were totally unprepared. They were just caught up because of me. I went off with the Doctor without a second thought, and I never imagined…” Her throat felt too tight to speak.

”Never blame yourself for a thing, Martha Jones,” Jack said. ”You’re a wonder.”

She was crying, all those tears she could not cry before because she had to be strong. All those tears she would not be able to cry from now on because her family would be doing the crying, and someone needed to not cry. He held her, stroking her hair, murmuring comforting nothings. 

”I can’t stay with him,” she said when she had finally dried her tears.

”Yeah,” he said. ”Me neither. Not that he’d want me to, but…” He swallowed.

”Aren’t we a pair?” 

”Guess we are.” He tried to grin, but his eyes betrayed more pain than mirth.

Martha decided she didn’t want him contemplating on the Doctor. The two of them should hash it out, but Jack didn’t need to spend the rest of his time ruminating on the ways the Doctor had hurt him. Neither did she. They both deserved something good. They'd given so much for him, and he was worth it, certainly, but they both were worth something he wouldn't give. She leaned closer, then thought she shouldn’t have done it —he really smelt so nice, and a feel of human warmth at her lips sent a thrilling pulse through her. She tried to hide it, but perhaps her intake of breath was too loud, for he turned his head and sought her lips with his. They were kissing again, her hands buried in his hair, his wrapping around her waist and holding her close. Soon she found herself settling into his lap, with no clear idea how she got there. 

She was so starved for touch and tenderness, she didn’t care. And when they paused kissing and Jack looked into her eyes, caressing her cheek and the corner of her mouth with his finger, she could see in his face that so was he.

They kissed on and on, and the gentleness and passion of his lips and hands enflamed her. He was pouring right into the void that had been carved by those lonely months full of horror and exhaustion. He was, perhaps, drinking the tenderness she gave to fill a similar hole inside him. 

He rained countless kisses on her face, while his hand teased its way under the hem of her shirt. She moaned when his fingers touched her skin.

He stopped then. ”Martha? Are you sure? I don’t want to…”

”Take advantage of me? Trust me, I would know how to tell you if I didn’t want this.” She looked into his eyes, as open and honest as she could, and he finally smiled. 

”I can believe that,” he said with a chuckle. ”Don’t believe I deserve this, though.”

”You do”, she said, and kissed him. ”You do, you do.” She slid her palm on his chest, searching for the beat of his heart, so alive even after so many deaths. "I just said I needed time, but I think an hour was enough." She smiled at him, and was finally rewarded by a dazzling smile.

They were slow at first, gently unclothing each other, kissing and caressing the exposed skin to wash away the memories of pain and fear and horror. But soon they grew more frantic, and Martha knew she wanted no more restraint or waiting. Jack readily lay down in his back, and she ran her hands appreciatively over his naked gorgeousness, watching his darkening eyes and flushed face with delight. She straddled him, felt his hands on her hips, and lay herself over him, their bodies draping together in shared desire and shared anguish. There, against his warmth and heat, with his tenderness and frantic passion filling her and expanding her, she was finally able to let go. And when he gave her all that he could, she sensed some of the twisted pain inside him releasing, too.

 

They lay together afterwards, resting quietly on the soft moss covering the ground. Martha lay her head down on Jack’s broad chest, feeling his chest rise and fall, hearing his heartbeat, sensing the caress of his hand in her hair. The sun had sunk lower in the sky, turning everything towards an orange gold.

”I suppose we should go in eventually,” Martha said after several minutes.

”I guess,” Jack said, but made no move.

She kissed his chest. He made a soft sound of approval. Then he pulled her on top of him so their bodies lay tightly against each other, skin on skin, breath against breath. He kissed her, his mouth now tasting of her.

Then they lay still again, watching the purple sky. ”Tell me about your team,” Martha said to Jack. 

He did, first in hesitant, broken sentences as he searched for memories beyond the past year, then words beginning to stream from his lips in a cascade of captivating stories. Vivid stories seemed to be one of Jack’s specialties, and the members of Torchwood Three became real to Martha, almost as if she had known them. But she also listened for the pauses and watched for the furtive glances Jack cast at sides sometimes. The relationships were more complicated than it had first sounded.

”Owen shot you?” Her exclamation was so loud that she paused and glanced at the sides. But it seemed to be true there was no wildlife here that would care how loud she was. ”Did he know you can’t die?”

Jack frowned. ”I don’t know. But I forgave him. He was being manipulated, they all were. And he hasn’t exactly had an easy life. And I…” He lifted his hands to his temples, rubbing them. ”I don’t know. I haven’t exactly been the best leader. Maybe I shouldn’t go back. Maybe they’ll do better without me.” He sounded bitter, and a little scared. 

”Nonsense,” she said firmly. ”If you have doubts about your abilities as a leader, then you're a better leader than most.”

He smiled faintly. ”Don’t know about that. I wonder if they’ll have me back.”

”Why wouldn’t they?”

”They were glad enough to get me back after I was very, very dead for a while —” he paused and she waited, but he didn’t explain more. ”But I left them without a word. No time for any goodbyes.” He had a broken look about him. Martha guessed something particular was preying on his mind, but no telling what.

Instead, she went back to piecing together the other gaps and hesitations in his stories. 

”What about Ianto?” she asked.

He started. ”Why?” She could see pain flicker across his face.

”There’s something about him, right? Something about the way you speak of him…”

He sighed and looked away.

She thought. ”Do you love him?”

Jack drew a hand across his face. ”Yeah. I doubt he knows.”

”And he?”

Jack paused. ”I don’t know.” He picked on the moss at his feet. ”We had something going on, and maybe… But he deserves better than me.”

”If you say that, then you are good for him.”

Jack kept picking at the moss. ”I want him back,” he said quietly. ”Especially after… all this.” He glanced towards the TARDIS. ”We all know _he_ will never…” It was clear that the meaning of _he_ had changed. Martha felt an almost painful surge of tenderness, knowing far too well how Jack was feeling. She stroked his cheek. 

”He does care about you.”

Jack smiled sadly. ”Maybe. Still, it doesn’t change certain things. And I’ve realised where my life is. I can’t spend all my time chasing after the Doctor.” He smiled ruefully, interlacing his fingers with hers. ”Think Ianto would like it if I asked him out? All nice and proper? Maybe that would tell him I want more than just an after-hours shag.”

She grinned. ”Oh, go on. Invite him to a dinner, maybe? Fancy tablecloths, candlelight, that sort of thing?”

Jack cocked his head to the side and smiled. ”Maybe. For once I’d offer him a meal instead of him ordering us all take-away.” But he still looked troubled.

”Hey.” She reached out and stroked his cheek with her hand. ”Don’t worry so much. You’ve had a year of worry. Let’s be free of it just for a moment.”

He looked rueful. ”Sorry.”

”No need to apologise.” She kissed his cheek. He leaned against her.

It was odd, perhaps, to be giving dating advice to the man she had just made love with, but she had already learned that with Jack Harkness, things rarely were normal. It felt right, the two of them here, regardless of what came before or after. She squeezed his hand, then kissed it. He kissed the top of her head, and they cuddled close, revelling quietly in the connection between them that would not break even if they went their separate ways.

The sky had turned a deeper purple as the sun sank lower. Martha shivered. He pulled his coat over them both. She thought of the Doctor, alone with his TARDIS. Perhaps that was what he wanted. Perhaps not. 

But she could not afford to think of him now. She had thought of him for well over a year. It was time to think of herself. Here, in Jack’s arms, she realised she was worth thinking of even if she wasn’t saving the world.

She knew the Doctor would be lonely. Perhaps more lonely than ever, now that he had lost the hope of getting the Master back as a friend, and boy did she still squirm internally that he had cried at the death of someone who had done all that devastation and done it willingly. But she did realise that one of the Doctor’s best gifts was to never stop hoping. It was only likely he’d take it too far sometimes. He would be lonely, yes. But by God, she had been lonely this past year. Jack had been lonely for a century. There was so much good they had had from the Doctor, and so much bad. They’d now have to learn to live with it.

She was glad to be lying down here with the one man who knew what she felt. She gently kissed his face, hoping to kiss away some of the sadness in his eyes.

”He said we’ll be here a couple of days until the TARDIS is fit to take us back,” she murmured to him. ”We’ll rest and make the most of it, you’ll show me all the pretty places, and then I go back to my family, you go to your team and your boy, and the Doctor… he’ll learn the consequences of leaving the likes of us lonely, huh?”

”I guess,” he said, and there were still shadows in his eyes. It was okay. It would be mad if there weren’t.

”And we’ll visit him sometimes, won’t we?”

”And each other.” He smiled a little. ”You ever feel like dropping in at Cardiff, I promise you’ll get the VIP treatment. The Hub is the only place where you can see a pterosaur these days. And I’ll get Ianto to book you a nice tour. We do run a tourism office for cover, you know.”

She laughed. It was so delightfully absurd. She kissed the bridge of his nose. ”Say, I’m getting kind of cold, despite you being quite the gentleman here. Say we go in and get some kind of hot drink inside ourselves, and ask the TARDIS where she keeps the pizzas? Then we can pry the Doctor off from underneath the console and have a nice evening meal.”

His smile faltered a little, but then it warmed up. She was glad. They got up, looked for their clothes, made light jokes and helped each other dress. She thought wistfully that if the Doctor was at all more perceptive than he was, he would sure be able to tell his companions had been having glorious comfort sex together. But well, his fault if he missed out on that.

Tomorrow was a new day, full of all the brooding time they might need, but tonight they could all share a little gladness that they were long overdue. No matter how long or short the moment would be.


End file.
